“No, you idiot, don’t you see? The digital, that’s humanity’s perfection! One may shape themselves, strip their flesh from its own weaknesses. Flaws disappear from the mind as the do the skin within the innerworld.”
“But, Chaice, you weren’t meant for this, this isn’t real.”
“Reality always sounds pessimistic to me. Flat facts, things that are neutral. They simply are. I think it’s the lack of positivity, or purpose, a path that can be followed. Having to make your own decisions is a little isolating, a little cumbersome. People drown in life.
it’s very nice, in life, to pretend, to fake a reality, but the real, blank face of what is, is that there is nothing. there is no meaning, and no purpose. there is no depth. There is no reason. There is no meaning, and there never will be. it’s impossible, for there is no inherent meaning or purpose in the universe. it simply is. So, then, any relations you want to be meaningful are impossible, they will all be meaningless; there is no love. Meaning cannot be created either. perhaps only reason, observing in the past tense. indulge in the meaningless, for it is all there is.”
“But what about our life? Our friendship? If I know me, I’m working on something out there. An what about the plan?”
“I’ll still help fund the project, but I blame you for my death, you were always short-sighted and foolish. Nanites? You damn fool. Just go, I can do better on my own, you may be installed, but you’re still connected.”

You can find a variety of different replicas here.

I continues to boost across the barren landscape, looking for the small spec of a hacker outpost where I might find help for my friend. Arriving, I follow a narrow stairway into the ground, and presses a pattern on a blank dead end. It opens.

“Wey,” A voice shouts at me from the darkness, “long time no see.”
“Well, outerworldly, yeah, I got a big problem, it’s Chaice.”
“How is he?”
“She’s dead, the companymen, it’s all my fault, you gotta help us Elz, you’re the only one I knew who could do anything here. We might need Ceta.” Gillick comes and helps bring Chaice’s body to a more appropriate area of the underground hacker complex.
“What happened?” Elz fiddles around frantically with wires, widgets, and sprockets.
“Went to the Companymen, heard about this new thing, the paradisio drive. We stole some UEC from a NewGov facility, got hard installs on the innerworld.”
“That was you?”
“I’m not sure I can help, Wey, our systems are down. How’d you hear about the paradisio drive?”
“Ceta was talking about it a few clicks ago, I had some connections with some rogue agents to get my hands on one in a secret facility.”
“Have you heard from Ceta since?”
“Least I heard, he was dead.”
“Yeah, same here.” She makes one final connection, and proper lighting returns to the facility, processors and drives can be heard booting up. “Let’s see what we can do.”

He’s dead. My best friend Chaice is dead. Her body sits there, brains burnt out. I know a digital copy still exists of him, but she was the original. So unique in every way. The Companymen stare blankly. We all knew this was a possibility. The guarantee stands for deletion, and I am given a savedrive. I boost back to the incorporated community, her body in tow. If I’m fast enough, maybe I can make things right.

Experience the best by playing here, live like a rock star after playing here

In the innerworld, the cities of altlife, home of the first, murder cannot be practiced, it is an alternate society, with real rules, a high tech beacon, in memorium of the outerworld. Proof that peace can be achieved again, or, proof that peace cannot be achieved in the outerworld. The cities are hubs, uniting the remaining outposts, allowing both an escape to the desolate views of the remains of outerworld, as well as a means to share ideas, on a means to rebuild, to prevent what has happened in the past from happening again, a utopia of a resource-based economy, a symbol of what horrors and beauty technology can be used for. A city by the shores. A dream, still, that the innerworld envisions for the outer. If there still are any resources left, that is.

I’m not sure I believe in it, but I’m glad at least a… backup of me escaped the outerworld, that shitpit of ruin. I’m a reborn being, alive in a new world, no longer a visitor, I’m living in the world’s resort. A permanent vacation of fun, useful time. Speaking of; back to the main point (my brain is still processing all of my memories): murder, in the games of the innerworld, it is meaningless. That’s the big fun. It’s what draws the most users, and therefore the most UEC (which are redeemable in the outerworld at certain NewGov, Companymen, 3rd parties, local shops, or various other, less regulated outposts for supplies, if you know where to look.) is NewGov’s Havoc Onslaught. That’s why we’re here, to earn creds for our outerselves, in a big way. We have no lag, we are actually in the game. We’re practically unstoppable, your avatar always survives after the game, and there’s no actual need to sleep. We can just keep winning over and over. It will be so schway. Or would, if playing that game wouldn’t draw too much unwanted attention in these formes. This to high volume of less popular games.

Of course, now that my friend is playing almost only to support her exemplar, I worry for his sanity. Can he stick to the plan with no investment out there? Plus, there’s no telling what dlc he can get that can alter him now, his powers against other users. A lack of focus on life, he could become lost to the game, forget anything he ever was. Or, even in the cities, try to build a new life with avatars. No telling with this tech. I might just be overreacting; I wonder… But there is no time to wonder, for the first round is about to start.

Walled in. I knew this was a possibility, but never gave into the lackluster dismal option of it. Not that I hadn’t prepared, but, never expected a negative turn of events. I had it all worked out. I don’t care. Not for this situation, no, not at all. A trap, set up before I could have even thought, towards the endgame of an eponymous victory. Blocked in, and set to sit, now. It’s all a matter of memory and futurethought, now. Calm, and collected.

In restoring hundred year old digital technology, we’ve developed a special nano-liqiud bath, so that the pixelation is not visible to the decoder rendering that data. It was quite simple, really. We’ve recently heard word of an original file, but have not heard contact with the sender in over a week.

I do understand that something is lost with restoration, an inner vibration of seeing it how it was originally seen to the primitives. This is a type of thought. The original is preserved, though once you view it, you may find that the cleansed to a visual purity version is superior, and the original is best left to a museum. This is not the case this retellings, derivatives, they are withing their own subfiles, available with free access of perusal of the original. Wherever the source of inquisition.

It was funny, somehow, that the only way to reach people who wanted to know of you, was to to reach them through things they did not want. Only then, would they realize. Brainpatterns through the oraganic strands were so inferior.

It was when my logic and reason were in their final death throes towards insanity that I finally began to appreciate the people in my life.
To look for some sort of truthful happiness, that was the original insanity on my part, at war with biology. Fighting against the illogical enjoyment of human interaction, those who will inherently betray anyone given half a chance. Enjoy these animals on their own terms. Became too preoccupied in my own dealings to realize that they were part of my life, as opposed to violently rejecting them.
I had to give up, to give in, and simply let my body to what it wanted to. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Either way, this consciousness will shatter upon death, and return to the cosmos as the earth crumbles and the sun explodes.
Live like an animal, in their presence, suppress my overarching intelligence and superiority over them. Bide my time, take shelter in this new-found insanity.
No, they’d never know that my laughs or smiles were the signs of a mind finally beyond the cusp. I was gone. I was gone.
The datafiles made a terrifying map of consistence, life and unlife. We were still alive. Even digitally, there is no difference, one can see the strands of the universe within the brain, and even within the digital brain do they pattern themselves once more in every aspect. Now it is faster, and more resilient, with all the hope and aspirations of the past, the future has arisen from dystopia.

“What do you think he meant, Elz?”
“I know exactly what he meant, and after this score, we’ll be having a chat with him.”
“Ugh, he’s so boring and technical, I can’t stand his mumbojumbo.”
“This isn’t the time for games, it’s time for The Games.”
“Lag off, I fragging got it. I’m better at these than any-”
“GAME ON!”

Bullets begin firing with full realism of physics. Just like the real thing, but better, less at risk. Unless that was your setting. Few have chosen the ultimate rounds, for that deletes your entire profile if one loses. In true rounds, with respawn and bench, one has never won multiple full matches in succession. There were too many people, the playing fields were level. It would be hard to blame some for experiencing the power over bots almost programmed to lose, with their AI’s intentional inferiority to the human brainwave. Killer-bot tournaments were always the best to watch. Only on special occasions though, so that The Permanent Mind could flex his digitized hands, lording his power over us as a benevolent god of cyberworld. An endgamer with no more masters, though he maintains corporate sponsorship from whence he came. The developer, long dead.

In a final hail of gunfire and explosions “THE ONSLAUGHT IS OVER.”
“We did it! we won!”
“Yes, I knew this strategy would work, man, we are fast!” The UEC is deposited into their private accounts.
“We should go now, this is a huge haul. I feel so silly now for being worried.”
“Worried? What abo- hold on, I got a pm”
“WINNER. You have been entered in a special bonus round.”
“Sweet, a bonus round.”
“Don’t bother with it, we have to go.”
“It’s a timed request, it won’t take long, I’ll meet you la-” he dematerializes, transferred to the bonus round.

In the Outerworld, both users never became logged on, the paradisio drive saw to that.
“Why do you think it didn’t work, Elz?”
“I’m not convinced it didn’t, I just need to figure out how to get our rigs up and running again.”
“What do you think went wrong?”
“The paradisio drive, it takes up a lot of power, probably blew out a couple of things.”
“Hey, I never asked you, why do you work out so much here?”
“Helps me think, plus, this is a good spot, it’s my room.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So that I can trust what I feel when I am me in the web, know that it’s not some weird fake cyber feeling. I like to experience the ultimate me all the time.”
“But we’re all gonna be digitized anyhow, body’s gonna crap out or something the way this world’s a wasteland. I feel more free in there.”
“I can be in my own mind when I just exercise, none of that bombardment of intertainment, just me, focused.”
“Intense, I just listen to music.”
“You always listen to music.”
“Yeah, but especially when uploaded.” They share a smile.
“But this is just for me. I still think the boundaries should be preserved.” A stunned silence, then, a sort of agreement. “There’s hope for this place, but it’s found in the cyberworld. We just need UEC funds.”

It all started at a time I don’t remember, and a place I don’t recall. So, one may ask of me, what it is. This is a story of aliens. No, not aliens. Something beyond. Beyond ourselves and also beyond aliens, and also beyond imagination! Also I recall the place.

We found ourselves in as poorly a written story as ever– you guessed it: 200 feet deep in Grenektian mud…

Due to bad intel, things had gone all wrong. I was standing beside a lead scientist, who was contacting his Manager.
“The President of Space has been captured by these ‘worms’. Had no clue they were even here, we have some smaller, similar specimens, but these are made up of something entirely different. They don’t show up on any scans, and certainly didn’t show up on the planet-scan. My Manager, please advise, this is only a research thtation– station. Sorry, I bit my tongue earlier in the attack.”
“Manager here. How many of the President’s armed forces remain?”
“Three, but they’re leaving to go rescue him. They want some of our security forces, and any scientists that think they can help, to go with them.”
“Then go with them. I will make sure their backup arrives swiftly.”

We were fast on the trail of these freaky-deaky clear-purple, kinda millipede-worms. About thirty feet long each. While the President of Space was giving his speech, four of them came up, surrounding the crowd. Someone somehow hurt one of them, but they killed about eight of us, capturing eleven, including the President.

We followed in two small HXNRovers, down the holes these creatures left. The groups traversed these intricate tunnels directly into a large expanse. There were thousands of these translucent things, all over the walls, and just piles of them, squirming all over the ground. As soon as we saw the President of Space and fellow captives strapped to the back of a few of them with a thick mucus membrane, the security forces opened fire, including myself. The beasts were largely unaffected by our pulse ammo, but it did draw their attention, and they began to focus an attacking front towards us.

That’s when I saw it, though. We all did. We saw it, the Gravity Surge. We’d only read articles on it on the Network. The entire chamber felt heavier. It started by taking out the ones near us by hand, tearing them apart. I still don’t understand how he could do what our weapons could not. It, or he, then began using some form of energy blasts, and in a flash, everything was dead.

On the surface, I was able to muster a question ‘Why? Why did you save us?’ When he responded, it was singularly the most preternatural voice I’d ever heard. Haunting, digital, and ominous.

“My power, this act means nothing… I did what was asked of. The universe holds only indifference towards life and death. My drive towards death can adapt to direction.” He then jumped into the sky, and never returned. We all felt a great weight lift off of our shoulders once he was gone, and breathed a sigh of relief.

We appear inside the inner world. Installed in the innerworld, not just a temp install for games, but a reality within, a duplicate of the highest order. The companymen did a fine job. Though, I can remember… the pain of being installed. I never thought that anything could hurt that much, even when the nanites set into my body. I wonder how it is, or even if it still is, my body.

“This feels weird.”
“That’s because it doesn’t feel at all. Receptors here, it’s contact based, and we now have digital souls.”
“Can we still contact each other?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to think.”
“Really? I feel a fair amount of clarity buffering.”
“It’s probably because my brain became restructured; it should clear up soon, once the organic/nanite matrix can be rerouted. Tell me if my personality shifts, though…”
“It shouldn’t?”
“Right, now let’s get going.”

I had no trouble dealing with what had been done, for it was all another way to go about it. This, this is the ultimate way to go about it. The entire cybernexus was a permanent infrastructure. It was everywhere, in us, outside of us, inside of itself. To become separately installed… that’s something special. It was the nexus, started out like one giant online portal to play other videogames. It always felt so real, all of them did, but it was still just a game, log in, log off. But with datamapping of the brain, it became a dream to be able to create a duplicate, within the nexus itself.

“Wow, now that’s called cash support, and we’re in it!”
“I still think it’s kinda dangerous.”
“Look, we’re talking monthly promotions, here.”
“Yeah, but to claim a bonus for a signdown?”
“Don’t think about it, don’t worry about it, we can provide the best selection towards the end result, we are part of this as users. It’s hard to be beaten.”
“True, but what if we get caught?”
“I don’t even see that as a potentiality. Besides, even if it did happen, the worst thing that can happen is deletion, and not only is that impossible, but we’re backups in here, our real selves still live, and can be reinstalled. The companymen guaranteed that.”

The companymen appeared, logged in, uninstalled. Still way too risky to test on all agents, and rogue agents like these especially wouldn’t risk installing an alternate conciousness on the servers.

Turns out the illegal nanites allowed my body to survive the procedure; my friend, Chaice, was not so lucky. It’s still difficult for my adapting brain to process facial expressions or emotions. I wonder how my outerworld self is taking this. I think for sure I would be feeling sorrow for the loss. I think I am. My friend, however, is completely unfazed. Says he’s better off, free from bondage, a weight off his shoulders. The idea may have infected his brain, I fear.